


kiss the skin that crawls from you

by ohmcgee



Series: ohmcgee's mallverse [32]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, M/M, aww feelings, ew feelings, mallverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You got issues, babydoll. Good news is, we all do!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss the skin that crawls from you

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of What Hell You Put Me Through, this time in Tim's POV. Read that first.

“Hey,” Connor says, a little bit louder than the last time. He’s been poking Tim in the back of his shoulder for the past ten minutes and Tim’s been successfully ignoring him for the past ten minutes. “Are you alive? Should I call an ambulance? I know CPR.” 

Tim groans and flops over, shielding his eyes with his arm. “Sure, now you wanna give me mouth to mouth.”

“Tim,” Connor mutters and turns away, his cheeks bright pink. “ _Pants._ ”

“You’re adorable,” Tim says, but he sits up on the couch and finds his pants, pulling them up and trying not to flash his balls to Connor too much in the process. “Where do you wanna get breakfast?”

“Oh,” Connor says, chewing on his bottom lip. “I kinda. Kyle’s off today so we --”

“Oh, right,” Tim says, picking his shirt off the floor. “You’re doing that. Fine, I’ll just grab a burrito somewhere.”

“Tim,” Connor says, still standing in the middle of the room just watching Tim try to find his other sock. “How long have we been friends?”

Tim shrugs as he looks under the couch. “Dunno. Few years. Why?”

“How many times in all those years have we ever spent this much time together?”

“Don’t be weird,” Tim says, scrunching his nose up when he sits back down on the couch to pull on his boots. “We do things.”

Connor sighs. “Why won’t you tell me what this is about?”

“Because it’s not about anything,” Tim tells him, lacing up his boots. “I just wanted to hang out. Is that like, a problem?”

“You wanted to hang out,” Connor repeats. “For the last two weeks. On my couch. When you actually pay rent somewhere else.”

Tim looks up and glares at him. “Why are you doing this? I came here so I _wouldn’t_ have to deal with this shit.”

“Yes, well,” Connor says. “That’s what you’ve done the last two weeks. Not deal with things. I think it’s time.”

“Whatever,” Tim says. “I’m going to work. Don’t worry, I won’t be back here tonight.”

“Tim,” Connor says, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Stop it. You know I like having you here. There’s no one else I can just sit in the same room with and not talk to for three hours but still feel like we’re hanging out. You’re one of my best friends. But you have to _talk_ to him. Or me. You gotta talk to someone or --”

 

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Tim says and spins out of Connor’s grip. “I’m late for work, bye.”

 

: : :

 

Work is as awkward as it’s been for the last week or so. Ever since he and Roy stopped spending every waking minute together all Jason does is glare at him, Steph is trying to make up for the awkward by being really, annoyingly nice to him, and Dick is as aloof as usual, or he was until someone apparently said something and now he and Roy aren’t working the same shifts anymore.

This was _exactly_ what he didn’t want to happen and exactly what he knew was going to happen.  
Harley bebops in from the Disney Store some time after lunch wearing one of the Elsa dresses pulled on over her clothes and leans against the counter. 

“Do I smell or somethin’?” She asks, popping her gum in Tim’s face. 

“Like a baby prostitute,” Tim says and Harley just grins back at him. “Why?”

“Cuz you guys haven’t been to see me upstairs in like, _days._ Mia’s making me bonkers. You know I think she threw the Little Mermaid soundtrack in the garbage? Hey, where’s your dumb boyfriend anyway?”

“He’s _not_ \--” Tim says about the same time as Steph says, “They broke up.”

Tim just turns and glares at her. “No, we didn’t. Christ, we weren’t even --”

“Oh yeah?” Steph asks as she files her nails. She’s got that same look that Connor had this morning. “When’s the last time you went out with him? When’s the last time you texted him, huh? Did you know he got a new tattoo and it got infected and --”

“Hey Harley,” Tim says, turning away from Steph. “You wanna go bug Wally and Kara and get sugared up on lattes?”

“You always know just what to say to a girl,” Harley grins and loops her arm with Tim’s as they walk out of the store, ignoring Steph’s shouts of, “ _You’ve already taken four breaks, asshole!_ ”

They end up getting slurpees because M’s on duty and he’s fucking militant about handing out free drinks and sit together at one of the little tables in the food court. Tim’s in the middle of checking his tweets when Harley says, “Kay. So. What happened?”

Tim doesn’t look up from his phone. “Nothing.”

“Honey,” Harley says sweetly, then she throws her legs up in Tim’s chair and hooks her feet around his waist and drags him forward, tangling them together until Tim can’t even begin to figure out how to get out of it. “You can try to pull that shit on me all day, but you’re talking to a girl with a phD. So make with the words, pumpkin.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Harley says. “You’ve got classic abandonment syndrome mixed with commitment phobia stemming from emotional neglect as a child.”

“You don’t --”

“You can’t remember ever hearing your mom or dad tell you they love you, true or false?”

Tim stares at her. “I’m not doing this.”

“True,” Harley says, gouging him with the pointy stiletto heel of her boot “Or False.”

“True,” Tim says, rubbing his thigh. “Fuck.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend or boyfriend longer than a month, true or false?”

“True, but --”

“Shoosh. You get nervous and feel like you want to crawl out of your skin when anyone tries to show you affection in any way, true or false?”

“Look --”

“True,” Harley says for him. “You got issues, babydoll. Good news is, we all do!”

Tim takes the lid of his slurpee off and pokes his straw down into his ice. Harley takes his hands and holds them in hers. 

“Timmy. You miss him, doncha?”

Tim yanks his hands away from Harley’s, picks her whole body up and sets her on the the table so he can get up. “I got to get back to work.”

 _”That’s a first._ ” Harley snorts, but Tim just pulls his glasses down and pretends he didn’t hear her. 

 

: : :

 

Before Tim gets off work, Bart and Wally drop in and tell him they’re all going out dancing tonight for Kyle’s birthday and ask him if he wants to come. 

“I don’t know,” Tim says. He actually has like, laundry he needs to do. Basically everything he owns is dirty since he’s been staying at Connor’s place for the past couple of weeks and Connor refuses to do his laundry for him. 

“Come on,” Wally says. “Bart’s got this new friend. You gotta meet him.”  
Tim takes his lipgloss out of his shirt pocket and smears it on. 

“What time should I show up?

 

: : :

 

The best thing about dancing, Tim thinks as a pair of large, heavy hands come around his waist and he feels a nice, half-hard cock press against his ass, is the anonymity. You don’t need to exchange numbers or get to know each other, hell, you don’t even need to know each other’s names. The only thing required is bodies. If you move well together. If you _fit._

The hands on Tim’s hips feel good, strong, like this guy could pick him up and fuck him against the wall and not even break a sweat. Tim hasn’t had a really good wall-fucking in a while and he might be a having a little jones for it. He turns around to look at the guy, to get a little closer, and the first thing he sees is --

Freckles. 

Red hair. 

Greenish brown eyes that are too green and not enough brown.

“Hey,” the guy says, smiling at him crookedly, tries to reach down and gets his hands on Tim’s ass, but Tim shoves him away. 

“The fuck?” The guys snaps. The rest of him is as proportionate as his hands, big and bulky, especially in the shoulders. When he reaches out and tries to grab Tim again, says, “C’mere and get back on my dick,” Tim swings hard and busts three of his knuckles on the guy’s jawbone. 

“You motherfucking --” The guy starts at him, his teeth covered in blood, and Tim’s adrenaline spikes. He’s wearing the wrong shoes to carry a knife in, so it’s just his buck one twenty against this guy’s two-hundred or so pounds. It’ll be fine. It’ll be _fun_. Actually, he’s kind of looking forward to it, clenching and unclenching his fists, remembering all the things Connor’s taught him over the years, and that’s when M steps in. 

“Hey fuckhead,” M says and grabs the guy by the scruff of the neck. “Get the fuck out of my club. Tim, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tim says, still shaking from the rush of adrenaline and a tiny bit of rage at M for stepping in when he totally had it under control. “Thanks.”

He heads back up to the bar to do a couple of more shots and runs into Wally while he’s up there. 

“Hey,” Tim says, throwing a bright blue shot back. “Where’s Bart? Didn’t you say he was bringing someone?”

“Yeah,” Wally says slowly. “Hey, about that? I think I was a little slow on the uptake and I think Bart might be seriously crushing on --”

 

“Is that him?” Tim turns and asks when he sees Bart and another guy out on the floor. Bart’s pretty cute and he’s got the kind of abs you’d pay to snort Adderall off of, but Tim’s never seen the new guy before. 

“Yeah, that’s Jaime, but hey --”

Tim’s already walking off before Wally can finish whatever he was saying. Bart and Jaime are dancing to some remixed Adele song like they’re fucking Amish or something, an inch of space between them at least. 

“Hey,” Tim says, flashing a grin at Jaime when he walks up to them. “I’m Tim. You’re Jaime, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Jaime says over the music. He’s got kind of long, shaggy hair and he keeps pushing it behind his ears like a nervous habit. “Wanna dance with us?”

Tim just grins and shimmies between Bart and Jaime and as soon as Ke$ha starts singing Tim starts moving his hips, laughing a little when Jaime’s eyes get super wide. 

“That’s a,” he says over the music, leaning in next to Tim’s ear so he can hear him. “That’s a nice skirt!”

“Thanks,” Tim says. Bart’s hands keep slipping off his hips and he’s not really doing much behind him. Tim forgot he was such a crappy dancer. He should probably be glad Tim stepped in to save him. “I like your shirt,” Tim says, running his hand up Jaime’s shirt to trace the lines of the molecules. “Capsaicin?”

“Yeah,” Jaime’s eyes light up. “I really like hot things.”

Tim grins back and licks his lips. 

“I mean --” Jaime stutters and Tim suddenly realizes two things: one, that he can’t feel Bart’s hands on him anymore and oh, Bart’s actually gone, and two -- he’s totally going to fuck this guy tonight.  
“Come on,” Tim says, grabbing Jaime’s hand and pulling him through the crowd. 

“Hey,” Jaime says. “Where did Bart go? Where are we going? Wow, you’ve got a really strong grip I think I’m losing circulation, I -”

 

Tim shuts him up with his mouth as she as he gets them into one of the stalls and locks it, sticks his tongue down Jaime’s throat and licks the tequila off of his tongue. 

“I wanna blow you,” Tim says, grabbing Jaime’s face between his hands, and Jaime either nods or he’s just shaking so much that it looks that way, but either way Tim slides to his knees and undoes Jaime’s belt, leans in and presses his mouth to the bulge of Jaime’s dick in his briefs. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my --” Jaime repeats until Tim gets his briefs down and swallows him down and then when Tim looks up he sees Jaime’s got his fist in his mouth, that’s why he’s not talking anymore. 

Jaime tastes _good._ He feels good too. It feels good to have his mouth stretched around a cock, to have his knees dig into the gritty, grimey tile and think about nothing except the soreness in his jaw and how to relax his throat so he can take as much as he wants. He could do this all the time, just stay on his knees and be filled up and not have to think, not have to do anything except take and take and he wouldn’t have to care about anyone, he wouldn’t have to feel so --

Tim pulls off of Jaime with a gasp. He never fucking _chokes_ when he’s blowing someone, so he has no idea what’s going on, but he can’t fucking _breathe._

“Shit,” Jaime says. “Was I -- Did I? Oh my god, what happened? Can you breathe? Do you need CPR? I don’t know CPR!”

“I’m not,” Tim says, still gasping for breath like it’s there but it won’t just fucking get in his _lungs._ “I’m not dying, shut up.”

“Okay,” Jaime says, kneeling down to his level. “But this is definitely not right. I’m gonna go get Bart.”

“Fuck,” Tim says. _Bart._ Bart’s got a crush on Jaime and he didn’t even care. He just walked over and took what he wanted, like always, fuck everybody else. “Fuck!” 

Tim buries his hands in his hair and puts his head on his knees. Okay, now he might be dying. 

“Okay,” he hears Jaime muttering to himself. “Okay, Reyes. You can do this. You know what to do. Phone...phone...aha, sweet. Okay, okay…”

Tim tunes him out when he starts getting light headed, when the pain in his chest has him convinced this is actually it. He’s going to die in a fucking disgusting bathroom in a shitty club and he’s done nothing with his life and he’s been nothing but an asshole to everybody who’s ever liked him and fucking Harley was _right_ and awesome. Yay. Now he’s crying. 

Tim can’t actually remember the last time that he cried. He’s pretty sure as a toddler he cried. You know, pitching a fit over more oreos or whatever, but not as an actual person. At first he didn’t want to seem weak in front of his Dad. Then he didn’t want to show his Mom that he actually had feelings so that she could use them against him. Then...everything just kind of got really fucked up. 

He’s sitting back against the wall of the bathroom stall sniffling when the door opens and he looks up and sees Roy. 

“Hey,” Roy says when he looks down at him and Tim doesn’t say anything. His mascara’s running all down his cheeks and his face feels puffy and his head hurts like a bitch from all the stupid fucking crying and he doesn’t even know why Roy’s here, but when Roy leans down and scoops him up, Tim’s too tired to do anything except lay his head on his shoulder and pass out. 

 

: : :

 

When Tim wakes up he’s in his own bed, still in the clothes he wore to the club, with only the sheet pulled over him the way he likes. When he opens his eyes the first thing he sees is the hole in the pocket of Roy’s jeans. Roy’s sitting up against the headboard playing Mario Cart, but he puts the controller down when he notices Tim’s awake. 

“Hey,” he says. He looks at Tim for a minute before he gets up and grabs his phone off the dresser. “I didn’t really know what was wrong, so I figured I’d stay and make sure you were okay and -- you look okay, I guess, so --”

“Why did you come get me?” Tim asks. That's the part he still hasn't figured out.

“I put my number in your phone as your ICE contact a while back,” Roy says, not looking at him. “Anyway, I'm gonna --”

“I know you love me,” Tim says, sitting up the rest of the way.

Roy stops where he is like a deer caught in the headlights, sets his phone down. “Don’t.”

“I pretend like I don’t, but I’m not stupid. I’ve known for a long time.” Tim looks down and rubs at the stamp on the back of his hand from the club last night. “You fall in love like it’s so easy.”

When he looks up at Roy, Roy still looks pissed. Tim doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t even blame him if he hates him, really. “What’s your point?”

“You,” Tim says, chews at the loose skin on his lip. “You act like it’s so easy, like everyone can do it. What if I _can’t_?”

“I don’t remember proposing,” Roy says, a little gentler, but with his arms still shoved bitterly in his pockets. 

“I know,” Tim says. “I just. Fuck, Roy. I don’t even know if I believe in love. Not -- not like you do.”

“Fine,” Roy says, the anger back in his tone. “I get that. I mean, I _got_ that when you kicked me out of here like some fucking asshole you picked up at the IHOP one night. So if you don’t need anything else I’m just gonna --”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Tim blurts out when Roy reaches for the door. “I tried. The first two nights you weren’t here. I tried, but I -- my fucking pillows smell like you. I’ve been staying at Connor’s for the last two weeks because I couldn’t _be_ here because you weren’t here, but I didn’t _want_ you here because that just meant that I needed you and I don’t want to need you because if you can fall in love with me so easily then you’ll probably fall in love with somebody else soon and -- and --”

“Hey,” Roy says, closing the gap between them and kneeling on the bed in front of him, taking Tim’s face in his hands. “Don’t do the not breathing thing again, baby. That really freaked me out, okay? Breathe with me, like this.”

Roy takes Tim’s hands and puts it against his chest, lets Tim feel the rise and fall of it when he inhales and exhales, but Tim doesn’t breathe with him, he just leans forward and lays his cheek against Roy's chest and when Roy’s fingers start combing through his hair he feels normal again. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Roy says, tilts Tim’s face up and kisses him on the lips. “Not unless you want me too.”

“I don’t,” Tim says, cupping the back of Roy’s neck and sliding his fingers into his hair, kissing him back, but drawing it out longer. 

Roy lays back on the pillows and pulls Tim on top of him, gets his hands on Tim’s hips when Tim straddles him, sucks on his bottom lip when Tim kisses him again. 

“It just scares me,” Tim says, sitting back. “You know how much I hate that.”

“I do,” Roy says, grinning up at him.  
“I’ll probably freak out again.”

“Probably,” Roy says. “I’ll still be here.”

“I might not ever say the thing,” Tim says, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“I know,” Roy says, cupping his face. “I don’t care.”

“I might not like it when you say it to me,” Tim says and Roy laughs at him.

“Would you just shut up,” he says and rolls them over, pinning Tim beneath him. Roy’s hair falls in his face and Tim purses his lips and blows it out of his eyes, smiling up at him. 

“Are we really doing this?”

Roy shrugs, leans in and kisses his collarbone and Tim shivers. “I’m here for whatever.”

“Good,” Tim says, reaching down to unzip Roy’s jeans and get his hand on his dick. “Will you still bring me breakfast burritos in bed?”

“Yeah,” Roy moans and rocks his hips into Tim’s hand, leans down to mouth at his jaw. 

“Will you still carry me into work when I wear the strappy shoes that hurt my feet?”

“Fuck,” Roy gasps when Tim starts stroking him faster. “Anything.”

“Do you,” Tim says, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the head of Roy’s dick, making Roy whimper. “Do you still want me?”

“Fuck,” Roy groans, nearly collapses forward and kisses Tim deep and rough, fucking his tongue down Tim’s throat. “God, baby. You know I do. You know I want you more than anybody. I want you all the _time._ ”

“Roy,” Tim says, throaty and desperate, his hand stilling on Roy’s dick. “Fuck me?”

“Don’t even pretend like that’s a question,” Roy grunts out and leans across Tim to get the lube and a condom, slicks his fingers up and slides two of them inside Tim, bends down to lick his cock while he works him open with his fingers. 

“Jesus,” Tim says, fucking himself down on Roy’s fingers. “I need you _in_ me.”

“You know, I never get tired of hearing that?” Roy grins and slides his fingers out, grabs the condom to tear it open and Tim reaches out and grabs his wrist.

“Tim?” Roy asks, looking down at Tim as Tim bites his lip and looks back up at him. 

“Just you,” Tim says, sliding the condom out of Roy’s hands. “I just want to feel you.”

“Christ, I fucking love you,” Roy lets slip out and when Tim’s cheeks flush Roy realizes what he just said and kind of freezes for a minute. “I mean.”

“Roy,” Tim says. “Just fuck me.”

He grabs the lube and slicks Roy’s cock up himself and when Roy lifts Tim’s hips up, Tim throws his legs over his shoulders. It’s a move they’ve practiced so many times it’s practically reflex by now. 

“Oh god,” Roy whispers when the head of his cock drags over Tim’s hole. His eyes get so big when he realizes he can feel everything now. Roy just plays with him for a while, rubs his bare dick all over Tim’s ass, teases his hole with it until it’s glistening wet with precome and lube.

“Oh fuck that feels good,” Tim murmurs, his hand on his cock, mouth parted slightly. “Keep doing that.”

“Absolutely,” Roy growls out and grabs his dick, pushes the head of it right against Tim’s hole, then pulls back, watching Tim bite down on his bottom lip when he does. He squirts more lube on and rubs his dick between Tim’s cheeks, teases his hole by tapping the head against it then pushes in just _slightly_ before pulling back out. 

Eventually Tim gets so hard from all the teasing that he’s leaking all over his hand. Each time Roy teases him by pushing the head of his cock inside it goes a little deeper each time until Tim is actually trembling. He’s never been one to beg before, but --

“ _Fuck_ , I can’t believe how good this feels,” Roy says, slowly pushing in again, and this time Tim pushes back and pushes against Roy’s back with his heels and Roy sinks all the way inside of him in one slick, hot, sliding motion, gasping when he bottoms out and resting his forehead on Tim’s.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Roy says and then Tim says, “Roy, _fuck_.”

“I know, baby,” Roy says, staring down at him. “I fucking _know_.”

“I need you to move,” Tim says suddenly. “I need you to fuck me _now_.”

Roy laughs at him, but then he gets a good grip on Tim’s hips and starts to get a rhythm going, and Tim can hear the action figures bobble back and forth on his headboard each time Roy fucks into him.

Tim clings to Roy, with arms and legs, with his mouth dragging hot and wet across Roy’s jawline as Roy thrusts inside of him, encourages him to go harder, deeper. Tells him he wants to feel _everything._

“Let me get on top,” Tim decides when Roy starts dripping sweat onto him and Roy pulls out, lets Tim push him on his back and climb on top of him. He bites his lip when Tim’s hand wraps around him, squeezes his eyes shut when Tim sinks down on him, his back arching off the bed. 

“No one else,” Tim says when he starts riding him, his eyes so blown they’re nearly completely black, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose. His throat and neck are covered in the shape of Roy’s teeth and mouth, his hips covered in Roy’s fingerprints. “No one else gets this.”

“Fuck,” Roy groans. “No one, baby. Just you.”

“The next time you fuck someone else, I want you think about this. I want you to remember how I felt,” Tim says, panting in between words as he fucks himself back on Roy’s dick. “How it felt to be inside of me when I came.”

“Oh fuck, _Tim_ ,” Roy groans. “Please, baby. Please, let me feel it.”

“Make me,” Tim says, digging his nails into Roy’s chest and Roy shudders out a breath and grabs onto Tim’s hips and just starts _bouncing_ him on his cock, fucking up into him so hard and so deep that he ends up making more noise than Tim does when Tim comes. Tim clenches around Roy when it slams into him and he throws his head back, screaming as come shoots up his chest. He can see the strain on Roy’s face, can tell he’s drawing on every ounce of energy inside him not to come yet, to just focus on how Tim _feels_ as he comes around him, the clenching of his muscles around his cock, the hot tight heat of him. 

“Please,” Tim says breathlessly, eyes an inky black as he leans forward plants his hands on Roy’s chest, leans in and presses his lips to Roy’s throat. “Let _me_ feel it.” 

“Yeah,” Roy murmurs and and sits up, gets Tim’s legs wrapped around him so he can grab his face in his hands as he fucks up into him. “Fuck, you feel so...I can’t fucking believe.. Tim, god baby --”

“Roy,” Tim says, breathing against Roy’s mouth, against his cheek. His dick’s getting hard again against Roy’s stomach and Roy’s so fucking _deep_ and he can’t stop saying Roy’s name over and over, like it’s the only word he remembers. 

“God, Tim, I’m going to come so hard,” Roy says against his mouth, their noses bumping as he bounces Tim on his dick. “That what you want, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“ _Roy_ ,” Tim whimpers and Roy digs his nails into Tim’s shoulders and his eyes go bright and wide when he comes inside of Tim, arms wrapped around him as his body shakes with it and the second Tim gets his hand around his dick he comes again and Roy fucking sobs into his shoulder like it’s killing him. 

“Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” he cries out and spills even more inside of Tim as Tim’s muscles contract around him, finally laying his head on Tim’s shoulder when he’s spent. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” Tim agrees, staying like that for as long as he can until it gets uncomfortable. “I gotta…”

“Yeah,” Roy says. “Hold on.”

He eases out slowly and Tim rolls onto his back on the bed. He can feel Roy’s come inside of him, can feel it trickling down the inside of his thighs. It’s a feeling he’s never really had before. It's a feeling he doesn’t quite know what to do with. 

He doesn’t even realize Roy’s left the room until he comes back to the bedroom with a warm washcloth. 

“You’re kind of gross,” Roy says, smirking down at him. “Want to do it or want me to? I mean, I kinda made the mess, so --”

“Idiot,” Tim says, cracking a smile when he snatches the washcloth from him. He wipes down his chest and his thighs, then throws the rag in the hamper and rolls onto his side. 

“Hey,” Roy says, smiling.

“Hey,” Tim says.

“You okay?” Roy asks, reaching out to tuck some of Tim’s hair behind his ear.

Tim thinks about it for a minute, then says, “Yeah,” and closes his eyes. 

For the first time in a very long time, he thinks it might actually be the truth.


End file.
